To Put the Past Away
by jinxed-lulu
Summary: She never could stop herself from smiling when he got like this. The Draco Malfoy that paced before her had messy hair from running his hand through it, his pale face slightly pink, all rigid control lost to his ire. AU, EWE; DM/Fem!HP


**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

.

.

.

.

**To Put the Past Away**

.

.

.

A pained hiss slid from between clenched teeth as Haesel slowly sat at her desk at the Auror Office; only allowing a quiet breath of relief to escape after leaning back some. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the mild look of concern on Ron's face—it had lessened greatly since being seen by a Healer; two ribs broken, three bruised.

They'd been sent out to investigate a wizard by the name of Thurston Winkling, on suspect of dark magic. It was known that Winkling's parents though not taking the Mark _had_ helped fund the Death Eaters during the war. Nor had it apparently been uncommon to hear Winkling use slurs against Muggle-borns, half-bloods and pure-blood families that were pro Muggle-born.

Thurston had been welcoming to the two of them; dark brown eyes warm, a pleasant smile adorned his full lips, and nothing but kind words for _the_ Haesel Potter and _the_ Ron Weasley. Yet neither she nor Ron had completely bought the act, having already dealt with too many hiding dishonorable intentions behind a kind veneer. A single shared look was all it took to agree there was something off with the man.

But it wasn't until the innocent request to search the manor that Winkling showed just who he really was—even that had seemed to be unplanned to the man himself. Those once warm eyes became cold, smiling lips twisted into a sneer, polite demeanor changed to hostile and his relaxed stance became straight and proud. Winkling took out his wand and threatened violence should they not leave his ancestral home that minute; naturally they refused, and Winkling made good on his threat.

Ron had escaped with a few minor cuts, bruises and burns. Seemed Winkling wanted action against the woman responsible for the end of Voldemort, whom delusional pure-bloods thought would create the perfect world—meaning he'd used most time focused on her. And they used that focus against him, having Ron sneak up from behind to stun him.

Thurston Winkling was currently in the Ministry's custody and awaiting questioning.

"So," began Ron, trying for the air of one talking about the weather, it might have worked had she not known him for years. "What are you going to tell the slimy berk?"

Shockingly, there was no contempt or spite in her best mate's voice when talking about Draco Malfoy. It had taken both him and the blond to stop having a go at one another, after Haesel started to date the Malfoy heir. Now it was just the usual rude nickname to reassure themselves that no Weasley _or_ Malfoy actually got along—even if Hermione and Draco were thrilled to find more intelligent discussion with each other.

Nevertheless his question was a good one to ask. Draco Lucius Malfoy was oddly almost overprotective of her.

"The truth?" she wondered, looking up at Ron from under lashes. "He'll find everything out somehow, might as well skip the talking-to about hiding things from him."

"Mate, Malfoy does remember who you are right?"

Haesel snorted with raised brows. "Yes, and that's why Draco acts this way."

Although another part of her thought it might have had a bit to do with the Dursleys' treatment. Even without telling him everything, she'd still had to stop Draco from finding and hexing them within an inch of their lives.

"Yeah," said Ron, drawing the word out and making a face. "A game of chess until we can leave this place?"

And all talk of injuries, relationships and other life things were over for the moment.

**X~X~X~X**

"—understand why you must always be so reckless, Potter! Have you yet to outgrow your Gryffindor stupidity? If you would just _think_ before—"

Haesel rested on the sofa, under a soft blanket sipping the hot tea made by Mizzy one of the Malfoy's house-elves, watching Draco pace fondly and listening to his ranting lecture with half and ear.

She never could stop herself from smiling when he got like this. The Draco Malfoy that paced before her had messy hair from running his hand through it, his pale face slightly pink, all rigid control lost to his ire; this was the Draco under the mask, the one so different from the public persona. This was _her_ Draco.

"Draco," she said quietly to gain his attention.

"—it's no wonder some question if you have a—" he cut himself off, stopping his movement to look at her with features softening. "Yes?"

"I could use some company," Haesel told him, a soft smile on pink lips as she patted her leg. "Come. Here."

"Oh, fine. The things I do for you," he said with a mock sneer.

As he came towards the sofa he pulled out his wand, silently casting a levitation charm to make moving her legs less painful on the ribs. He rested her legs on his lap, and took her hand, touching her as if she was delicate glass.

"I love you, too, prat," she said truthfully and teasingly. And at her words Draco's silver eyes darkened and softened, and he looked at her adoringly.

.

.

_**[Fin.]**_


End file.
